The Nature of the Beast
by Scribe Teradia
Summary: Theo bets that he can crush the prissy little Mudblood while she's reeling from the Weasel's rejection. Rated for language and generous helpings of smut.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own J.K. Rowling's characters, obviously, 'cause if I did they wouldn't have been kids' books.

**Author's Note:** I stole a prompt from seraphimerising's lj smut table (#8, "I'm cruel") because it set off a crackathon in my head and then I got this. Dedicated to my virtual bff, chicagowench, who is my mentor and muse for all things evil. Love it? Hate it? Review and tell me why!!

**The Nature of the Beast  
**by Scribe Teradia

"For the last time, Pansy, no we haven't seen Malfoy," Theo snapped, lengthening his stride to outpace the shorter girl. "Why do you even care, anyway? It's not as if he's even looked at you twice in months, too bloody obsessed with his so-called mission."

"Shh," Blaise hissed, from his other side, shutting them up immediately. He halted, and Pansy and Theo stopped with him, listening. "Do you hear that?"

Theo was about to say no when he did, in fact, hear what Blaise was going on about: someone was crying softly, farther along the corridor.

Pansy's eyes narrowed. "It's the Mudblood. Probably bawling over the Weasel again. Honestly, that girl spends so much time crying it's a wonder she hasn't drowned the bloody Weasel."

"And how much of that is your doing?" Theo drawled, arching a brow at her.

She glared up at him, hands on hips, and tossed her head. "Really, Theo, I haven't picked on the bint in weeks. All that moping around she's been doing, it's not even worth the bother."

"Oh, I don't know," Blaise mused, looking thoughtful. Theo turned the arched brow on his friend, instantly suspicious of whatever was going on in the other boy's head. He'd learned years ago that Blaise was far more cunning than he let on, and he was careful never to stray into the other Slytherin's sights. It should have made what Blaise said next practically inevitable. "Seems to me she's got a great big target on right now, wouldn't you agree, Theo?"

They stared at each other, Theo's blue eyes boring into Blaise's brown ones as if he was trying to pick apart the other boy's mind, and then understanding dawned all at once, and his lips pulled back from his teeth in a grin that made Pansy take two steps back. "Abso-bloody-fucking-lutely. How long?"

Blaise's gaze turned toward the ceiling, his expression still thoughtful. "Mm. Virgin. Two months?"

"Done." Theo turned toward the corridor where the sobs were coming from, absently waving at Blaise and Pansy as he left them behind.

He found Granger seated on the steps leading to the Owlery, and schooled his features into something resembling concern. "I say, Granger, are you all right?" he asked, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and offering it to the girl.

She blinked up at him, her face red and blotchy from crying, big brown eyes still watery with tears, and he was momentarily captivated by the sight of her, so very sweetly vulnerable and absolutely perfect for what Blaise had intimated. Her expression went from despair to surprise to suspicion, and he was fascinated by the way the emotions played out on her face, making her as easily read as the books she favored so much. "Aren't you going to call me names or try hexing me or something?"

The hurt in her voice was delicious, he savored it like a fine wine before shaking his head and sitting next to her. "Malfoy's an obnoxious prat, I'll grant you, but _some_ of us in Slytherin actually remember the lessons in manners our parents taught us." He reached for her hand, she jerked it away, and he sighed, waving the handkerchief at her. "It's not going to bite, Granger. Merlin, but Malfoy's got you well-trained, hasn't he?"

"No, he has _not_," she snapped, snatching the hanky from him and dabbing at her face with it in a brazen display of Gryffindor bravery. No wonder she'd been Pansy's favorite sport for so long, she was so quick to react to just the slightest of barbs, she was a Slytherin's dream come true. Instant gratification.

He shifted ever so slightly as the thought made his trousers rather tight, and then tsked at her. Relieving her of the handkerchief, he reached out and caught her chin with his left hand, carefully brushing stray hairs from her face with his right. "Hold still," he requested, quietly, though he needn't have bothered because she'd gone still as a statue the second he'd touched her.

"Wh-what are you doing?" she stammered, her cheeks turning red again, though he knew it wasn't due to tears, this time.

"Helping," he replied, simply. He swiped at the last of the tears, then let go of her, tucking the handkerchief away again before tilting his head just so to one side, considering her. "You know, when you're not moping about, you're really rather pretty." His hand came up again, his fingers brushing her cheek, and then he caught himself, drawing back. "I should go."

The line was delivered perfectly, and she read it precisely the way he'd intended her to, drawing back and looking down at her lap, refusing to meet his eyes. "Sure. Can't risk being seen with the Mudblood."

"Not at all," he corrected her, quietly. He caught hold of her chin again, gently lifting her head so that he could look at her directly, could watch the emotions swimming in those eyes as he explained, "You might have some trouble explaining to your Housemates what you're doing with an evil Slytherin, though. I don't want to make things harder for you than they already are." His words confused her, set her off balance, and it was perfect, absolutely perfect, everything going according to plan. Then he leaned in and brushed his lips to her cheek, in what he knew she would think an impulsive gesture but was in fact a brilliant tactical move on his part, and he got to his feet and vanished down the stairwell.

Granger was not the first virgin Theo had courted, nor was she even the first Gryffindor. She was, however, the first girl he'd ever set his sights on for the sole purpose of completely destroying her spirit, which meant every move had to be meticulously calculated, every word, every gesture planned out in detail beforehand. For him, two months was slow, but he knew he'd need all of that time in order to weave the deception in just the right way, relying primarily on whatever truths and half-truths he could dredge up because it was easier than spinning out an elaborate lie. Lies had a way of falling apart at inopportune moments; the truth was harder to poke holes in.

It helped that the girl was intelligent, it meant that he could talk to her without having to dumb himself down, and he found it surprisingly easy to be honest with her, except of course about his motives, which was a topic he simply avoided as much as humanly possible. She still had her doubts that he could possibly be interested in her, thanks to Weasley's colossal blunder in overlooking the fact that she was a _girl_ for nigh on six years, but he was nothing if not ambitious, and his relentless pursuit of her, however subtle, was steadily chipping away at the walls of low self-esteem she'd erected around herself.

Two weeks in, he kissed her on the mouth, and while it was quite possibly the most chaste kiss he'd ever participated in with anyone he wasn't related to, Theo felt it was progress. She was the one who suggested out-of-the-way places to meet, and he was frankly surprised by how many she knew of, though it left him a great deal of opportunity to coax her away from studying and book talk, once he'd finally convinced her that he truly wanted to be with her. It was utter rubbish, of course, but when he'd enlisted Pansy to tearfully approach the girl and beg her to go easy on poor, gentle Theo, her performance was so well-timed and perfectly played that he knew he'd have his prize well before the two-month deadline.

He was frank with her about his experience, though he twisted some of the details so that he ended up the one wronged more often than was true; mostly because he didn't think he could convincingly pull off the facade of inexperience when she finally succumbed to his charms. There was no doubt that she would, it was simply a matter of timing. The years of rejection by her peers and her beloved Weasel had made her ripe for someone like Theo, someone who treated her like the desirable young woman she was, who seemed to genuinely care about her thoughts, her feelings, what she wanted and needed.

The trap was baited and set, and he knew the endgame was nigh the day she asked him, hesitantly, to meet her in the Astronomy Tower after curfew. There was only one reason to arrange a rendezvous that late, and he kissed her tenderly and asked if she was sure while secretly reveling in her shy assurances that it was what she wanted. He cornered Pansy in the Prefects' bath and spent a good twenty minutes shagging her in order to relieve some of his pent-up sexual frustration in order to ensure that he'd be up to the task that evening, then showered and changed before heading up to the tower.

Granger was every bit as sweet as he'd expected her to be, from the pale pink lingerie beneath her school uniform to the way she tasted to the way she quivered beneath his mouth and hands, whimpering and moaning and crying out and begging for more. He entered her slowly, breaking through her barrier with a quick jerk of his hips and then holding still, giving her time to adjust to him and kissing away her tears before he started to move, slowly though it all but killed him to hold back because she was so deliciously tight and wet and warm around him. It was bliss, and he made sure to tell her so until he was no longer capable of coherent speech, and he felt her quiver and clench and release around him, his name falling from her lips until his kissed her to finally shut her up, his own release coming soon afterwards.

Afterglow was a good look for her, and it turned out Blaise and Theo had been right when they'd discussed her potential: once he led her down the path of temptation, she set out to explore all on her own, and that first night she tested the limits of his stamina, proving almost as insatiable as Pansy (which was saying something, because Pansy's appetites were legendary in the Slytherin dorms). He dressed her again afterwards, and putting the clothing back on her proved to be so erotic that he found himself ripping her knickers back off and taking her against the tower wall, her skirt hiked up around her hips and his trousers around his knees, pounding into her while she clung to him as if her life depended on it.

It wasn't until after she'd disappeared through the portrait into the Gryffindor common room that he realized somewhere his plan had gone horribly awry, because he no longer wanted to break her. He wanted to possess her, claim her, make her his in every way, and that was a dangerous road to go down because he knew she'd fight him once she figured out what he was doing. The nature of the beast that was Ambition, perhaps, but he smiled to himself as he made his way back to the dungeons, reformulating his plans to work in this delightful new angle.

**The End**


End file.
